


Going Forward

by Trekgloria



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:11:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekgloria/pseuds/Trekgloria





	Going Forward

Going Forward 

Demelza walked back up the path holding Hugh's hand. Neither had said anything after they left the beach. There was nothing to say, conversation was unnecessary, what they had done, each for their own reasons, was now simply a matter of fact. Words would not accomplish anything, and more importantly, Demelza was unsure what would happen next, but that future was hers and hers alone. Hugh had been a moment, a decision, not a lifetime. Reaching the garden, they slowly pulled apart like two leaves caught in different eddies, one takes the white water over the rocks and swiftly moves beyond sight, the other glides along the gentle flow, serene, uncomplicated reaching another destination. As Hugh's hand slipped from hers, Demelza cast her eyes on his face and studied him for a moment. Handsome, gentle, and forthright was how Demelza thought of him. This might be the last time she would see him, for they had no future together. This was their parting. Demelza turned toward the house and heard Hugh ride away.  
Pausing at the back door, Demelza thought of the many times she had crossed this threshold; first as barely more than a scared child entering as a scullery maid into a great house, and for several years that was who she was each time she entered this house, a servant to Ross. Even on that fateful day when her father came for her and Ross fought him and after when she left thinking he didn't want her, he followed her and brought her back. That had been her first hope, not only for Ross, but also a freedom from what had seemed her only fate--fear, pain, despair. And later, after that night when she wore the dress and Ross made love to her, leaving the next day, believing Ross would send her back to her father. But Ross came after her and brought her here, home, yes home, as his intended wife. And the day they returned as husband and wife and entered together, the most important of day of all, Demelza was no longer maid, but mistress and wife. Like some heathen practicing a kind of folk magic had she silently given thanks to ancients for this her home and Ross her husband. Still as she crossed the threshold that day, Demelza wondered if those spirits would support her or destroy her for her impudence.  
As Demelza entered the house tonight, she was reminded of how it felt when she first entered so many years ago. Every thing seemed alien and not hers. She headed to the stairs, ones she had climbed quickly so many times, to clean, to join Ross in bed, to bear their children, yet each step tonight seemed insurmountable, her legs felt like lead.  
Outside the bedroom she paused before reaching for the doorknob. What would she find on the other side? An empty room, Ross and the children, a barred door even, these fears passed through Demelza's mind. Gingerly she turned the knob and the door opened. In the crib were her children, and then in the bed, Ross, still dressed, just lying there. She walked to the bed and lay down. For a moment both stared up, then Ross began to ask, but she deflected his question. Then, the old feeling overtook them and they pulled together. How often had they comforted each other like this, she wondered.  
Going forward from that night, Demelza barely slept, every time she drifted off, any slight movement by Ross woke her. Each morning, long before the sun was only a glimmer of light on the horizon, Demelza slipped out of bed and left the room quietly. She went downstairs and looked around. Usually daily life was a routine for her, knowing what chores to do to manage the household. But suddenly she was the Demelza of the past, unsure what to do, just looking for something to move or clean. The worse though was feeling unclean and the need to wash herself. Normally for daily washes, Demelza would use the basin in the bedroom, however, she no longer could allow herself that familiarly, to clean herself in the bedroom she shared with Ross. Instead Demelza would go to the back pantry to cover her shame. Demelza heated water, took clean bloomers and a frock from the line. Filling the basin with water for her wash, Demelza realized this was an absolution she daily performed to remove Hugh from her body. Undressing, she soaped a flannel and washed her face, then moved down her body. At her belly she paused and suddenly realized there was a chance she could have gotten with child from joining with Hugh. This brought a chill to her. As Ross with Elizabeth, a child to forever mark this joining, a child, born of her liaison with Hugh. Surely not, and yet it was a possibility. There was a child out there, which Demelza knew had been conceived through their coupling. And then Demelza realized what Elizabeth must have felt when she knew her child was not George's, but Ross'. The fear made Demelza ill. A startling thought plied her brain, she knew how to bring about an end to a pregnancy, but could she. Such a contemplation could not be managed just now, yet another one formed, had Elizabeth considered this or even known of a way to or wanted to end that pregnancy. This notion Demelza pushed far down, she was unable to think of the past or future.  
` Demelza quickly finished her wash, redressed and took the water to the far end of the barnyard and threw it over the fence. Normally, she just tossed it outside to rise into the air, the droplets forming tiny rainbows and then fall like rain on the ground, but this wash water contained more, it held the remnants of a deed and was now foul, unsuited for the home. Again, Demelza was at a loss of what to do next, these were no longer usual days. Still the regular chores needed doing. Though still early, she went into the kitchen and prepared breakfast for Ross and the children. Looking for another chore she took the hoe and went to the far garden to focus on the destroying the weeds which crept upon the orderly rows, threatening to over take the seeds she had so diligently planted and tended. Demelza had always relished in creating a garden full of beauty, color, fragrance, and even food for the table. Demelza saw it as a way to reflect her life with Ross, bringing her contribution to nourish the family. But now the weeds seemed stronger and were devouring the fruit of her labor. But the hard work of pulling and hoeing allowed her to focus on her energy on something positive and rote. Still the fears filled her mind, the knowledge of Ross kissing Elizabeth in that church, that he did not deny it nor try to explain, continued to sunder her future. The dread, that Ross still loved Elizabeth, still secretly went to her, made love to her, battered her spirit. That fear, that knowledge could not be forgotten a second time. Promise as he would, Ross could never completely renounce Elizabeth, she would always be a part of him. But, Demelza realized Ross was as much a part of her as Elizabeth was of him.  
Yet in a moment Demelza had turned from Ross and experienced something she had never expected and now had no further need of, Hugh. Though Ross, Demelza feared, could never be bereft of Elizabeth. That was a trepidation she would have to live with. If Ross did love her, he also loved Elizabeth. As the sun reached the crest of the stone fence, she knew it was time to return to the house. The children would be awake and hungry. Going in, she used the back stairs to reach the bedroom. Pushing open the door, there was Ross beside the crib, holding Clowance and Jeremy.  
She needed to speak, but she choked on the words. Still she crossed to them reached out her arms to Clowance, who as usual smiled at her but clung to Ross. But Jeremy reached for her. This was always how the children responded, she was Jeremy's favorite and Ross, Clowance's. She remembered her own childhood, all of her siblings clung to her mother, never once had any of them sought out their father. What a trust Ross brought to people she mused. Then the four of them proceeded down the stairs as they had so often. Not a word was spoken, had they always been so quiet, Demeleza wondered. She fed the children, while Ross ate. The children's babbling filled their silence thankfully. Ross rose and simply said; "I'm going to the mine." And left the house.  
By now Prudie was about. Demelza fell into the normal routine of the day. Going to the wash house, she pumped buckets of water, then kindled the fire, and let the water heat. Demelza then realized all the clothes to wash were still in the bedroom and quietly walked up the flight of back stairs. At the door, she again paused then pushed it open. Full of bright sunlight, no place for shadows to hide now. She stripped the bed, gathered all of Ross' and the children's clothes and took them out to wash. First she washed the whites, then the darks, finding a complacency in the repetitive motions. Finally, only the clothes she wore yesterday were still to be washed. Putting them in last, separately, she could not pollute the others with hers. As she pinned each item to the line, she mused on the ease of washing away evidence of a day from clothes, but no amount of washing would remove the knowledge of what both she and Ross had done.  
She packed a lunch, took Jermey's hand and carried it up to the mine for Ross. He was down working with the men, so she left it on his desk and returned home. Small, but meaningful actions, carried out daily had defined their life for so long. However, at this junction would these actions continue to be meaningful she wondered. She worked in the garden for the rest of the day, finally stopping to prepare dinner. As she finished feeding the children Ross came in and sat down for his. He thanked her for lunch, mentioned what they had accomplished that day, and then offered to take the children while she cleared away the meal. Back in the parlor the children played at Ross' feet, he read, and Demelza mended clothes. An evening like so many before, but with a knowledge and fear unspoken between them. Rising to put the children a bed, Demelza said, "I'm turning in with them." Ross, glanced from his reading and smiled at the children, then said; "I'll be along shortly."  
For the next few days Demelza and Ross spoke to each other only when necessary, always polite, but short answers to specific questions or information shared as necessary. Except for the lack of conversation and physical familiarity nothing looked amiss. Two weeks later, Demelza woke and discovered her flow had begun. She realized she had been holding her breath as to whether she was with child or not. As she cleaned herself she began to weep. This was a potent reminder of what had happened. Whether she cried in relief or sorrow she couldn't decide. Hugh might never leave a child in this world, but she did not relish the idea of bearing a child which might not be Ross'.  
The month wore on, neither initiated physical contact, but their old patterns gradually resumed. Ross would reach for Clowance or Jeremy from her arms and carefully disentangle her hair before pulling the child to him. If he found her carrying things, he'd steady her as she went in the house or if she had heavy loads, he'd take it from her and allow his hand to linger. Demelza would drop her eyes and say a soft thank you. Demelza noticed too, Ross was rarely away without being obviously in the company of the workmen, Dwight, and even his trips to town always were undertaken with others in attendance. For Demelza she stayed near the house, only going up to the mine to take Ross lunch or going to visit the villagers to deliver food or other items, but always with one or both of the children in tow. Both needed the presence of others, like a buffer to ensure no worry would reach the other.


End file.
